rained all day
by Tiffany Blews
Summary: Alex unexpectedly kills herself, leaving Justin alone and wondering why. He finds a letter, and in that letter Alex explains everything to him. Justin can't believe what he reads. Maybe there was always more to Alex than everyone knew.
1. i've done something so terrible

The first thing Justin Russo notices when he walks into his sister's room is that it's not the same.

He hasn't been here in... what? Two years? And it looks dramatically different. No vibrant colors, no random scarves and belts draped over every available surface, no... Alex. It makes him a little sick, but he does not turn around and walk out. He does not let the memory of what used to be scare him away.

Justin runs his hand along Alex's desk; it comes away clean, no dust, and he shakes his head in amazement at the things he will never understand. Why did Alex do this? What made his crazy, amazing sister walk away from life? Justin sits down on her bed with his heart beating slowly in his chest, counting the days since the last time he saw her.

It was just two weeks before... before _it _happened, and she sat in front of him at their favorite diner, wearing a black turtle neck, stockings and ankle boots. (Now that he thinks about it, her outfit should have struck him as odd. Alex didn't wear black; she just _didn't_. But he wasn't paying attention, wasn't looking closely enough, and that fact slipped right on through.) He was in town for business, a couple of book signings, and she agreed to meet him for lunch. It had been a while since they'd got together, just the two of them, and Justin ordered the same meal he'd been getting since he was a child.

They made small talk, Alex picking at her food while Justin texted on his Blackberry. It didn't feel right, but Justin ignored it. They were growing up; they didn't tease each other anymore. This was maturity at it's finest. When they went their separate ways, she hugged him. Tight. And when she turned away, Justin thought that maybe, maybe, there was a tear in her eye. He wanted to call out to her, but she was gone, vanishing into the crowd. And he let her go.

Now, as Justin looks around Alex's room, he wonders why she didn't ask for help. He feels the guilt drop onto his chest, and he lies back, settles into her bed with a sigh. It smells like soap and perfume and Alex. Kind of like fresh cut grass and rain and strawberries, something completely unique; just like her.

Justin falls asleep.

---

A light flicks on, and Justin jumps awake.

"Rise and shine, cutie."

There's a blonde, middle-aged lady standing in the middle of Alex's room. She smiles at him as he sits up, her heel clicking in an impatient beat on the floor.

"I figured I'd find you here." She says thoughtfully as Justin rises from the bed, runs a hand through his hair.

"Um, don't mind me asking but... who are you?"

The lady pulls a thick envelope out of her briefcase, "I'm Karen Ashburn, wizard attorney, and I have something to give you." Karen extends her hand, and Justin looks at her for a moment before taking the envelope.

"What is this?" He asks, turning it over, looking for some sort of label.

"Something your sister wanted you to have."

Justin freezes.

"This is from Alex?"

"Yes, it is. She arranged for me to deliver it to you."

"Do you know what's in here?"

"I'm afraid not. Well, gotta go. Later."

Karen turns to leave, and as she takes out her wand she seems to remember something.

"Oh and, Justin, is it?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Justin nods, "Thank you."

With that, Karen disappears in a cloud of purple smoke, and Justin sits back down on the bed. The envelope he holds in his hand is thick, full of papers. Justin is curious, and a bit scared. He runs his fingers over the rough manila surface, his mind with thick with the possibilities.

Justin opens the envelope.

* * *

if jalex squicks you out, then this might not be a story for you.

i'm in love with my idea for this. it will be a slow process, more than likely, but i really, really hope you stick with it. it's a little reminiscent of the book 'thirteen reasons why', in a way, but i am definitely not plagiarizing jay asher's wonderful book. the reasons are so completely different and plus these guys are wizards. so please please please give this a shot :) love you guys - oh, and check me out on youtube under the name itsleannadarling. i make videos now!


	2. i'm not coming back

_I don't really know how to start this off. _

_It should probably be something really profound, right? Well, I've never been all that profound anyway, so I'll just do this my way._

_Hi, Justin. If you're reading this totally non-profound letter, then it means that I'm already six-feet under. Dead and gone. And you're probably wondering why, so I'm going to indulge your curiosity. The envelope that Karen has delivered to you is filled with my innermost thoughts. It'll tell you all that you need to know. _

_It'll tell you why I ended my life._

_I guess you also want to know why I chose you._

_Why not Harper? Because she wouldn't understand. I love her, but she could never read through all these reasons and get what I mean when I say that I don't deserve life and life doesn't deserve me._

_Why not mom, or dad? I couldn't let them know these things; I couldn't let them read all the atrocious thoughts that have went on inside my head._

_Why not Max? There's a specific letter for Max in here. Give it to him. Don't read it._

_Why you? Like it or not, you and I have always been pretty much the same person. Even though we're completely different. You are the only person that I could entrust these letters with, and in some way, you already know this. We could always understand each other better than anyone else._

_So, Justin. This is my story, my demise, my anguish and my torture. This is my life, and I'm giving you a choice. Take these letters, read through my mind, or throw it all away and pretend that you were never handed my explanation. _

_I think I know which option you'll choose. _

_--- _

As Justin finishes Alex's first letter, he too knows what he's going to do.

He's going to read every last word that's written in his sisters swirly, cursive writing. He's going to dive straight into Alex's mind, and he's going to understand why.

Because nothing could ever justify throwing this all away, right? Nothing could ever justify Alex leaving forever, could it? And he desperately wants to know, God, _why didn't she just talk to him_? He would've listened. Did she think he didn't care? He was miles and miles away, but he still loved her. She was still his sister.

And Max. At least she has something for Max.

He's so messed up right now. Nineteen, in college, and without the sister that he'd become so close with. At the funeral, Max stood beside Justin and didn't say a word. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Justin didn't know what to say to his younger brother, didn't know how to even be there for him. Justin kind of suspects that he'd been a little drunk; he could smell the faint hint of whiskey and it made him worry.

Justin opens the envelope, shakes out its contents on the bed. There's a letter that's folded and titled 'MAX', and what he thought was a stack of papers is actually a journal. Justin lays the journal aside and takes Max's letter. He walks across the hall and takes comfort in the fact that Max's room is as messy as it always was. He goes to the desk, which is littered with text books and garbage and photos of Alex.

He sits the letter on the clean part, where Max is sure to see it, and he picks up the stack of pictures. Justin flips through them, only stopping to stare at the one of himself and Alex at her quinceneara

Justin takes that photo and goes back to Alex's room

---

Justin walks over to Alex's vanity; he wants to find that necklace, the one with the gold heart (Alex smiled when he gave it to her for her seventeenth birthday, even though it was wholely unoriginal and a dime a dozen. She wore it everywhere). It'd be nice to have it, as a reminder of her (as if he could ever forget.)

When they were both in high school, and Justin still lived here, the thing was covered with jewelry and make up and nail polish and all sorts of other girly things. Now, it's almost bare, save for one bottle of perfume and a black scarf draped over the side of the mirror. Justin sits down and faces himself, looks at his reflection.

He gets some sort of tugging feeling in his heart, a whisper in his head telling him to _read the next letter, it leads you here. _Justin takes the first letter that had been loose in the envelope and tucks it between the last page and the back of the journal. The journal itself is a creamy white color and Justin runs his fingers over the first page, which is full of Alex's handwriting, feels the indentations of her pen marks and prepares himself.

_My Vanity_

_I want you to look in the mirror, Justin. What do you see? Yourself staring back at you, I bet. When I looked in this mirror, all I saw was failure. I was never pretty enough, never skinny enough, never nice enough, never smart enough. I didn't measure up. I don't know how much time I've spent over the years just looking in this mirror, picking myself apart. No one ever knew this, of course. I was the picture of self confidence, until I was alone. Then I fell to pieces. _

_I don't know when it started; was it middle school? Even before that? I can't remember. All I know is that the Alex in that mirror was ugly, fat, mean, and stupid. She wasn't a real person, she was a fake. A fraud. She lied everyday and she didn't deserve the friends and family that loved her. _

_In this mirror, I hated myself. I hated everything about me, and I didn't know what to do to make it better. Those loud patterns and colors and outfits were my defense mechanism; distract the people on the outside from seeing who I really was. I was nothing but my appearance, nothing but the shell I put on display. I didn't know how to be who I was. I didn't know who I was._

_But now, as my life is coming to a close, I can see it. This girl, this real girl, was a white wall. Pure, clean. This girl was bland, nothing, and she has dressed herself up, painted on yellows and pinks and blues, and ruined herself. She has tainted the beauty that was innocence, wrecked everything that could've been._

_And there is no going back._

---

As Justin reaches the end of Alex's first letter, he feels his stomach twist.

He takes another look at himself, and he can see Alex here, tears in her eyes, face scrubbed clean of makeup, hair in natural waves flowing down her back. She was so beautiful, he thinks, how could she not see that? His heart breaks in this mirror, Alex's image crumbles before him and Justin feels sick, sad.

To his left lies the necklace he'd been looking for. He takes it in his hand, along with the picture and Alex's journal.

Justin doesn't know if he can stomach reading the rest of this.

* * *

i did this pretty quickly but im happy with it :) kinda... haha. i really hope you guys enjoy this and i'm gonna try to update this pretty regularly. there will be about ten chapters, maybe more, maybe less. who knows? love y'all.


	3. this is so sad

It's seven when Justin finally leaves the Russo apartment.

Dim lights from the patio door cast a shadow on the stairs as Justin descends them, taking them slowly, tiredly. This has been an unreal day, he thinks, and if it weren't for the journal weighing heavy in his left hand, then he wouldn't believe it.

Alex is dead, that he knows. His sister does not reside in this apartment anymore, yet he can see her everywhere. Sitting on the kitchen counter, eating ice cream and calling him a loser; flipping through tv channels, announcing to whoever's around that everything that's on is lame. He misses her fiercly, desperately. But then he remembers the mystery that she kept on the inside, and he looks back in his memories, searches for something, anything that could've been a sign.

He remembers that sometimes, she'd get this weird look in her eyes. Like she was lost, a little girl all alone. And just when he'd identify it, see the weakness that she always kept hidden, the look would dissapear, and she was back again. And he would forget about it. Alex was weird; Alex was strange; Alex was okay.

Except she wasn't.

Alex wasn't okay, and that's something Justin can never forgive himself for overlooking.

---

Later that night, in his hotel room, Justin opens the journal.

He's been trying to sleep for an hour and a half, but rest won't come, so he decides to read another letter. He hesitates as he flips a page, wondering what, exactly, this one will hold. (He's terrified.)

_I miss the magic, Justin. _

_God, I miss it so much. I miss the way it felt on my fingertips, the way it thrummed in my blood. I miss how it left that burnt cookies smell in a room long after it was gone. I miss the way it sparkled and I miss the glow from my wand. I miss how it made me feel; special, important._

_And I don't blame you, Justin. I don't blame you for winning, because you deserve it, and I always knew it would be you. This was your thing, but it was mine, too. But you're so much smarter, and I should've prepared myself for losing it but... I couldn't, and I feel so alone without it. It was like a friend, like someone who could comfort me when I felt sad, or a warm blanket that kept me from freezing at night._

_Max doesn't really care. He doesn't care that it's all over and that you're the family wizard and that he's normal now, he'll never be special again. Max doesn't care, but I do. And I have dreams about it, about feeling the power again, my head rushing with the sheer magnitude of it, like that time in the Carribean. Is that how you feel, Justin? Like you're invincible, and no one can take that away from you._

_I can feel shimmers of it, sometimes. There's a little bit in my blood still and I get flashes of it when I'm really angry, or sad. It's not enough, and having a taste of it just makes me hurt. _

_---_

Justin wakes up that next morning to the sound of his phone blaring.

Susan, the screen reads.

"Hello?" Justin answers, and his agent immediatley starts squawking into his ear.

"How are you? Everything all good on the homefront? When can you come back? You should be promoting! I know this is a hard time and all but... we have a book to sell!"

He closes his eyes and breathes slowly, "I'm a little caught up at the moment." He says slowly.

Susan sighs, "Listen, Justin. The funeral was a week ago. And I know that your sister was important to you and that you're sad. It sucks. She was young and bright and beautiful and the situation just _sucks_. But moping around in New York isn't going to do you any good."

Justin just shakes his head.

"We need you back here as soon as possible."

"Okay, Susan. I'll... try to speed things up."

"That a boy. See you soon, my handsome prodigy."

Justin hangs up and climbs into bed.

He'll go back to LA when he damn well pleases.

---

When Justin first left home for Columbia, he missed Alex like crazy.

It was something that he never told her; how could he? She would have teased him for it mercilessly. But he did miss her, all the same. It's like he didn't realize how much time they really spent together until she wasn't there anymore.

Justin came home for Christmas that year to find everything at home basically the same. Max was still weird, Alex was still careless. Nothing was different. It saddened him, to be honest. Justin's whole life was new, a jumbled mess of classes and books and a roomate and endless time to himself, and, back on Waverly Place, nothing had changed.

One day during the break, he coersed Alex into going to the Statue of Liberty with him; they'd lived in New York City their whole lives but had never been. She whined about the abundance of tourists with annoying children the entire time, but Justin knew that she was having fun because she smiled when she didn't think he was looking. That's probably one of the best memories he has of her; standing in front of that huge building, grinning in spite of herself.

Justin misses Alex's smile the most, he thinks. It was so rare to catch one that wasn't arrogant, or mischevious, or mean. A real smile was something only certain people could produce, and Justin prided himself on being one of the select few.

---

There's a knock on Justin's door after he gets out of the shower.

Justin peers through the peep hole to see his younger brother's red rimmed eyes and slumped shoulders waiting for him.

"Max," Justin says as a greeting, Max swallows, nods his head, walks into Justin's room and sits down on his bed.

"What's up?" Justin asks.

Max runs a hand through his hair, leans his elbows on his knees.

"I miss her so much, Justin, and she's only been gone a week. How am I supposed to go on forever without her, if I can barely stand this long?" He says weakly, his fingers locking together, bridging the gap between his legs.

"I... I don't know, Max."

"Why would she do this? I'm so mad at her! I shouldn't be this angry at her, I know, but I am, because she left us here, Justin. She took the easy way out!"

Max is on his feet now, pacing the short distance of Justin's room.

"I don't want her to be dead but she is and I can't do anything about it. I can't change anything and it _kills _me. She could've talked to me, we could've figured it out but she just threw it all away!"

Justin throws his arms around his shaking brother, hugs him tight to his chest.

"I know, Maxy. I know it hurts. But... Alex is happy now, okay? She's... she's so much happier now. And she has her magic back, too. In Heaven, she got her magic back. And we'll see her again one day, and she'll be just the same."

Max sobs, clutches Justin's shirt in his hands, "She was never the same after you left, Justin. Something was off, and I couldn't fix her. I couldn't fix her and now she's dead."

Justin lets his tears fall freely, hates the world as he and Max cry for their lost sister.

* * *

ugh kill me. i took way too long to update and this chapter sucks. review anyway? and go sub itsleannadarling on youtube pleaseeee :)


	4. someone i once knew

Justin eats dinner with his family the night after Max showed up at his hotel room.

They're all pretending everything's okay, but Alex's empty seat is the elephant in the room and Justin desperately wants to never sit at this table ever, ever again. The room is quiet until Teresa begins talking about a new sandwhich idea. She asks him about press for his book and he answers in short sentences, not really paying attention. Jerry nods once or twice, his eyes red and unfocused. Max is a statue.

Everything feels wrong. So, _so _wrong and Justin knows that there's nothing he can do about it, nothing he can change.

Conversation trails off and Jerry leaves the table, his chair scratching on the tile and his feet making loud noises on the stairs as he heads down to the lair. Max still doesn't move, even when Teresa bursts into tears and stands, her hands shaking as she collects four plates of uneaten lasagna. As she walks away towards the sink, Justin hears her mutter _there should be _five.

* * *

Justin avoids going back to his hotel for a while, trying to prolong what he knows will be another sleepless night. He doesn't want to read the journal.

He watches tv for a few hours, flips through maybe a dozen stupid reality shows that Alex used to love. As two am approaches, and there's still no sign of Max, who escaped the house right after their failed dinner, Justin remembers that his father has yet to emerge from the lair.

The stairs are dark as he descends them, his hand firm on the cold metal railing. The sub shop is empty (it hasn't been open since... well) and eerily quiet, and Justin hurries down the rest of the steps, unwilling to be in the pitch blackness any longer. A small light is on in the kitchen, and he eases the door of the lair open, not wanting to scare his father.

There's no sound in the lair, only the soft glow of lights on the potions table. Jerry is bent over a huge book, his hands in his hair. He looks a mixture of upset and angry, and Justin is unsure of wether to leave, or approach him.

"There's gotta be a way... I know the rules, I know... There are always loopholes, always."

He's muttering fragmented sentences, his voice low and rough against the silent backdrop of the room.

"Dad?" Justin calls, breaking his father's concentration. Jerry's head snaps up, and Justin sees the tears barely contained behind his eyes.

"Justin..." His voice sounds choked, broken.

"Are you... Are you alright?"

Jerry runs his hands over his face, laughs bitterly and the sound hurts Justin's ears.

"What are you doing?"

Jerry slams the book closed and begins extinguishing the lights on the table, one by one. By the time he walks over to Justin, the dark is only illuminated by the small light still on in the kitchen.

"Nothing." He says as he claps Justin lightly on the shoulder.

He turns off the last light and leaves Justin in the dark.

* * *

Max finally comes in at three, his head ducked down as he tries to slip past Justin unnoticed. The tv's on low in the background, Justin's been watching informercials since he came back up from his encounter with his dad in the lair.

"Where have you been?" Justin asks. Max meets his eyes quickly, then turns away and dissapears in the shadows of the stairwell. Justin sighs and turns off the tv before he leaves the loft for the night, his hotel room the only place left to go.

* * *

_Dean broke my heart first._

_I wanted to be with him so much that it hurt. I built him up so high, I just knew that we were going to ride off into the sunset after he saved me from my castle of pain and it would be a fairytale. It would be perfection. And then we were together, and it was such a dissapointment because prince charmings don't exsist and Dean let me down. Dean wasn't who I wanted him to be, and then he moved away and we broke up and I was hurt. I was hurt for so long. It seems melodramatic, I know. We weren't even together that long, but it was more than Dean. It was the fact that the world would never give me my storybook ending. _

_Mason was my second chance._

_You remember that, I'm sure. He ran away into the night with your little vampire girlfriend. He was British and beautiful and he loved art, he loved me. Or atleast he said he did. And I believed him. I believed him, even though I knew that relationships weren't what I expected them to be. I believed, gave him the benefit of the doubt, and... he fucked me over. _

_There were others who lied, cheated, broke me down again and again. Made me believe then pulled the rug right from under my feet. And I kept going back because I needed love, I need love, something real and maybe that's my character flaw, the one thing I was born to battle with. Maybe it'll never end, and I'll keep running in circles until I'm all used up._

_I'm all used up._

Sleep never comes to Justin, _I'm all used up _echoing in his head all night.


	5. all of these clouds

Once, as a child, Justin's father explained to him the laws of magic.

"Everything is possible, Justin." Jerry said as Justin sat at attention, listening intently, "Everything is possible, but that doesn't mean everything is allowed. There are laws that tell us how we can and can't use our powers. Without them, there would be complete chaos. Laws are necessary, not to trap or contain us, but to keep us safe."

Justin had nodded, understanding, even at the age of ten.

This memory plays at the edge of Justin's consciousness all night.

* * *

Justin sleeps until late afternoon the next day.

He doesn't think he's ever been this exhausted. The weight of the past few days is unbearably heavy upon his shoulders, and it takes him a few minutes to finally crawl out of bed. The sun is shining bright through the curtains of his hotel room, the sounds of the city creeping in, even though he's ten stories high. He peers out the window for a moment, looking down into the streets of his home.

He knows he will never be able to look at this place with fondness again. From now on, this city will be haunted, forever plagued by the ghost of his sister. The thought brings on a fresh wave of agony, and he fights to keep himself together.

Still, the journal calls to him from his bedside table.

* * *

Justin decides to spend the day in Central Park, hoping that he can clear his head.

He just needs to get his bearings. Where can he go from here? What can he do?

He's sitting on a bench, watching the birds, trying not to think of anything at all, when she approaches him. She looks exactly the same, except thinner, her clothes not quite so loud. She's more contained, he notes. Her face registers shock, her cheeks pink from either the cold or embarassment, then she opens her mouth to speak, but she can't quite find the words to say.

Justin stares at her, openly, and he can't decide if he's angry or relieved to see her.

"Where _were_ you?" He says, voice shaking.

Harper blinks, stunned, "Justin... I couldn't... Alex, and I, we... God, I'm sorry." She shakes her head, "I'm _so_ sorry."

"What happened, Harper? What happened to her?"

Harper sits down beside him, looks out across the park, "I hadn't spoken to her in months. I had no idea she... Felt that way. I didn't know. The last time I saw her she was fine. Perfectly fine."

Justin laughs bitterly, "No, she wasn't fine. She was never fine, Harper. She just had us all fooled into believing it."

* * *

Apparently, the last time Harper saw Alex, she was still parading around in bright colors, spouting off scathing remarks and scraping by with passing grades.

Harper does tell Justin, however, that Alex had begun to slowly withdraw from her. She didn't answer Harper's phone calls, or drop by unexpectedly. Harper chalked it up to the fact that they were growing up and going to different colleges, making new friends. Nothing unusual. Harper said that on the rare occasion that she talked to Alex in the year before her death, Alex rambled on and on about the fun she was having, the people she was meeting. All seemed well.

Justin listens to Harper's explanation, but he soon can't stand it anymore.

"Why weren't you at the funeral?"

Harper swallows hard, turns away from him, runs a hand through her hair.

"I couldn't go, Justin. I just felt so... _guilty_. How could I face you all when it was my fault? I was her best friend, and I let her slip away. It was my fault!"

"Harper..." Justin begins, but she shakes her head fiercely and stands.

"No, Justin, it was. If I had just... If I had just _tried_, and not been so wrapped up in myself, then this wouldn't have happened." Harper's openly crying now, tears running down her cheeks, "She would still be here, Justin, if I had just looked a little closer!"

Justin stands to comfort her, even though he really has no idea what to say, but she backs away.

"I'm sorry, Justin. I'm so sorry."

And then she leaves Justin standing in the park, alone and more confused than ever.

* * *

Justin spends a couple of hours with his parents at the loft that night, eating pizza and trying not to feel the huge void that rests within their home.

Max is absent, and when Justin asks where he is, Teresa shrugs, eyes glued to the tv, her mind elsewhere. Jerry says he's with friends, or something, but he knows that neither one of them are really concerned.

It's him who calls Max to check on him, and it's him who collects his brother from a bar in Brooklyn when it becomes clear that Max is in no way able to bring himself home.

* * *

He sleeps at the loft that night, after hauling Max up the stairs and into his room.

He is blissfully thankful that the journal is across town in his hotel room.

The same memory plagues him in his dreams, fuzzy around the edges and distorted by time.


End file.
